Selma Al

It was a procession of ghosts. Returning as if through a time warp were figures from one of the darkest chapters in American history, the 1965 episode in which state troopers and sheriff's deputies attacked defenseless civil rights marchers with such violence that almost the whole nation rose up in outrage. Only this time everything was different.

It was a procession of ghosts. Returning as if through a time warp were figures from one of the darkest chapters in American history, the 1965 episode in which state troopers and sheriff's deputies attacked defenseless civil rights marchers with such violence that almost the whole nation rose up in outrage. Only this time everything was different.

The way Mayor Joe Smitherman tells it, he and other white leaders got tired of seeing Selma blasted for its segregationist past, tired of television showing the old films of state troopers and sheriff's deputies assaulting civil rights marchers with clubs and electric cattle prods at the Edmund Pettus Bridge on "Bloody Sunday." They got tired of hearing about young people who, when asked if they know about Selma, would reply: "Yes, didn't something bad happen there?"

They were, many of them, children from homes where parents didn't vote, and this journey was an effort to make them think about the horrible price earlier generations had paid for that simple privilege. They rode into the Deep South from South-Central Los Angeles, 40 of them, some ex-gang members, some high school dropouts, still uncertain about how to connect to today's world, let alone to history. They rode nonstop for nearly two full days, winding up in sleepy Selma, Ala.

About 600 blacks marched to the mayor's house Saturday and demonstrators continued sit-ins at Selma High School and City Hall to protest alleged police brutality and a black school superintendent's dismissal. Protesters had planned to walk from a Selma church to the Edmund Pettus Bridge, a landmark in the civil rights movement of 25 years ago, but organizers postponed that walk until today. The protests have kept all of Selma schools closed since Wednesday.

For a chance to relive a pivotal moment in the history of civil rights, a group of 40 African Americans and Latinos from South-Central Los Angeles boarded a bus Thursday for Selma, Ala., to reenact the 1965 Selma-to-Montgomery march. The participants, ages 17 to 21, are from the Community Build-Youth Fair Chance program, which provides training and counseling. The group is composed of ex-gang members, single mothers and high school dropouts, said Bernice Sanders, a spokeswoman for the group.

They were, many of them, children from homes where parents didn't vote, and this journey was an effort to make them think about the horrible price earlier generations had paid for that simple privilege. They rode into the Deep South from South-Central Los Angeles, 40 of them, some ex-gang members, some high school dropouts, still uncertain about how to connect to today's world, let alone to history. They rode nonstop for nearly two full days, winding up in sleepy Selma, Ala.

The re-enactment of the historic 50-mile march from Selma to Montgomery ended Saturday with 3,000 people gathered in the shadow of Alabama's Capitol to rekindle the spirit of the civil rights movement. In the 1965 march, 25,000 people gathered in "the Cradle of the Confederacy" to demand voting rights; organizers hoped the 1990 trek would herald a new age of activism.

More than 40 artists will open their studios to the public for next Sunday's ninth annual Venice Art Walk. The event, scheduled from noon to 5 p.m., benefits the Venice Family Clinic, a free health care facility. Last year it drew 5,500 walkers and raised more than $500,000.

Marie Foster, a civil rights activist who helped launch the Selma, Ala., voting rights movement and was brutally beaten by state troopers in an infamous attack during a 1965 march to Montgomery, has died. She was 85. Foster entered a Selma hospital Friday and died Saturday. The cause of death was not released. Close friends and colleagues of Foster noted that although she was in failing health, she continued to be an active participant in social welfare issues in Selma and the state.

For a chance to relive a pivotal moment in the history of civil rights, a group of 40 African Americans and Latinos from South-Central Los Angeles boarded a bus Thursday for Selma, Ala., to reenact the 1965 Selma-to-Montgomery march. The participants, ages 17 to 21, are from the Community Build-Youth Fair Chance program, which provides training and counseling. The group is composed of ex-gang members, single mothers and high school dropouts, said Bernice Sanders, a spokeswoman for the group.

The re-enactment of the historic 50-mile march from Selma to Montgomery ended Saturday with 3,000 people gathered in the shadow of Alabama's Capitol to rekindle the spirit of the civil rights movement. In the 1965 march, 25,000 people gathered in "the Cradle of the Confederacy" to demand voting rights; organizers hoped the 1990 trek would herald a new age of activism.

About 600 blacks marched to the mayor's house Saturday and demonstrators continued sit-ins at Selma High School and City Hall to protest alleged police brutality and a black school superintendent's dismissal. Protesters had planned to walk from a Selma church to the Edmund Pettus Bridge, a landmark in the civil rights movement of 25 years ago, but organizers postponed that walk until today. The protests have kept all of Selma schools closed since Wednesday.

The way Mayor Joe Smitherman tells it, he and other white leaders got tired of seeing Selma blasted for its segregationist past, tired of television showing the old films of state troopers and sheriff's deputies assaulting civil rights marchers with clubs and electric cattle prods at the Edmund Pettus Bridge on "Bloody Sunday." They got tired of hearing about young people who, when asked if they know about Selma, would reply: "Yes, didn't something bad happen there?"

It wasn't easy being the other team in town, growing up in the shadow of the Dodgers, who owned not only the stadium the Angels played in but seemingly the entire city. The Dodgers? Yes, indeed, right here on Page 1. The Angels? Try Page 3. Gene Autry went to St. Louis in 1961 to get broadcast rights for an expansion team in the American League and came home with the franchise.